relax, just breathe
by hailingstars
Summary: A Stark family road trip goes completely wrong when Peter gets food poisoning from questionable carnival food. Post Endgame, Tony lives.


A/N: hey! this was written for irondad bingo, but I think I'm gonna start posting these stories separately from my Tumblr collection.

Please enjoy!

* * *

Peter used to wonder when it happened, exactly.

Days like this, for one reason or another, he wanted to find the precise second he got abducted into the Stark family.

It'd be easy to say it was on the battlefield, after he snapped back into existence, when Tony saw him for the first time in five years, when he hugged him and pressed a kiss on his cheek to welcome him back, but the more Peter thought back, the more he realized it was some undefinable time before that.

Maybe it was during late nights in the workshop, or all those nights Peter had to call for backup when he was in trouble, and Tony would have to come, stitch him up and ice his bruises.

Or maybe he became a Stark during the few seconds before he died in Tony's arms, like Tony decided if he ever somehow, by some miracle, got him back, he wouldn't ever let him go.

Peter wished Tony would let him go.

Maybe then he'd be back at his apartment, free to do whatever he wanted while May and Happy were on their honeymoon, instead of being at a small, roadside carnival Morgan conned Tony into stopping at during their drive through the country. Peter hadn't wanted to come along for the drive, but he was forced into the road trip, anyway.

A trip, Peter was convinced, didn't actually have a destination. They were just driving around just to drive around, and besides being at a carnival, Peter wasn't sure where they were, what state they had wandered into, or when they would get to go home.

"It'll be great," Tony had told him. "It'll be fun."

Peter had yet to have any fun.

Not when he was busy thinking about the week that could have been, that he could be doing what he'd planned to be doing before Tony interrupted those plans by sitting him down, giving him a weird talk about underage drinking, and announcing that they would be going on a road trip.

A breeze caused Peter to zip up his jacket, and leaves crunched under his Converse as he looked around. The carnival was pretty unimpressive. It was small and cramped and the rides were so rusted over Tony banned Morgan from riding them. Peter didn't have to be banned. He had no interest in doing anything that might make Tony believe he was enjoying himself.

"Hey Pete!"

He turned, and saw Tony waving him over to where he stood in front the lane of skee ball games at the edge of the carnival's boarder. It was too late to pretend he hadn't heard him, so Peter ducked his head down and marched over.

"Let's play," said Tony, and before Peter could give an answer, which would've been a hard no, he handed the employee a few tickets to cover both of them. The carnie, who looked like he wanted to be there just as much as Peter, slammed down a button and the skee balls released from the rack.

Peter looked down at the lane hopelessly, and with a sigh, reached down and grabbed a skee ball. He eyed the 10,000 slot. If Tony wanted a game, Peter was going to give him a game. He aimed, swung his arm backward, brought it forward, then released and watched, like his life depended on it, as the ball rolled down the lane, jumped up, hit the rim of the 10,000, bounced off, and dropped down to roll into the 1,000.

"Almost," said Tony. Peter wanted to shove him, or at least sabotage his roll, and when it leapt up and sunk down and scored 10,000 points, he wished he had. "Oh, look at that."

Peter swiped another, sent it rolling down the lane and cringed when it was an exact repeat of his first roll. He didn't look over at Tony. Just looking at his scoreboard light up 20,000 was enough to clench his fists, to get him riled up and even more determined to win.

He didn't know why it mattered so much, or why he was getting so frustrated each time he rolled the ball and it missed his target. On any other day, he'd laugh it off. He was never really any good at these sorts of games, but that day was different.

Beating Tony at skee ball was all he had, and then, after rolling his last ball, and of course, missing, he didn't even have that.

"Damnit," he muttered, under his breath, as he kicked the front of the machine.

"Kid, relax," said Tony. He must've sensed his frustrations, because he'd stopped gloating after his first hit. "It's just a game."

Easy for Tony to say. He finished his game with a perfect score.

"Congratulations, sir," said the carnie, in a monotone voice. He ripped a golden ticket off a roll and handed it to Tony. "You won a free elephant ear."

They walked away from skee ball, and Peter glared at the golden ticket in Tony's hand. It was stupid to be angry about losing at a carnival game. Petty, even, he knew that, but he still felt it, still wanted to rip coupon out from Tony's hand and stomp it on the ground.

"You cheated," said Peter. "You used your prosthetic arm. It's unfair advantage."

The words sounded like a joke, even to Peter, but his tone made it clear it wasn't. Tony laughed anyway.

"It's still attached to my genius brain," said Tony. "That knows how to aim, unlike yours."

They walked past a trash can, and Tony tried to toss the golden ticket, but Peter snatched it in midair, before it went in.

"You can't throw this away, it's free food."

Tony looked down at him and stared. "You always forget I'm a billionaire."

"That's not the _point_," said Peter. He didn't want an elephant ear. It was the principle. He looked around until the spotted the concession stand, then took off in that direction, Tony following along at his heels as he went.

Tony was always following him.

The cashier greeted them by coughing into her hands and sniffing her nose, and Peter choose to ignore that, along with the offended look that flashed across Tony's face. He put the crumpled coupon on the wood counter and pushed it forward.

"One elephant ear, please."

She turned her head and screamed his order to the back, causing her voice to break off as she went into a coughing fit. When she finally stopped, she straightened out, and looked at Peter and Tony with watery eyes. "Sorry, I'm just getting over Strep."

Peter took a couple of steps backwards, and Tony distanced himself even further. Behind the cashier the kitchen looked dirty and rusted just like the rides, but Peter tried not to pay attention to that, just like he tried not to pay attention to the way the cashier handled his food when it was passed off by the cook.

He took it from her, with a smile that faltered, and stepped away from the stand with Tony, both of them eying the elephant ear wearily.

"Don't eat that," said Tony.

And he probably wouldn't have had Tony not said anything. He didn't particular want it. He didn't want to tempt his body into getting sick, but Tony just had to open his mouth, and Peter couldn't take another lose after the skee ball disaster.

He looked up at Tony. He maintained eye contact and took a bite into the sugary, cinnamony, probably germ-infested treat.

Tony sucked in a deep breath, then released. "I'm not feeling sorry for you when you get sick."

Peter shrugged, took another bite. He was already committed to finishing and it was actually pretty good, once he divorced it from the dirty kitchen and sick cashier.

"Dad!" Morgan ran towards them, holding a cone filled with blue candy cotton that was bigger than her head, and with Pepper chasing after her. "Look what I got!"

"Where did you get that?" asked Tony. Peter rolled his eyes at the dramatics while he chopped on the elephant ear. "The concession stand?"

"No," said Morgan. "Mommy and I found a cotton candy machine."

Tony sighed in relief, just in time for Pepper to catch up with them. He checked his watch and tapped it.

"Time to get back on the road, before we all die from swine flu."

* * *

It took only thirty minutes for Peter's stomach to start hurting.

It felt like longer, though. Tony had confiscated his cellphone so they could bond as a family over road games, which just meant instead of listening to his music or watching YouTube videos, he was listening to Tony and Pepper bicker about directions from the front seat, while Morgan's kid songs blasted from the speakers.

Peter tried to tune them out, both the music and the arguing, as he hugged his stomach and let his head rest against the cool window.

First he tried denial. He wasn't getting sick. It was all in his head. Tony had planted it there, but then his stomach cramps twisted and twisted until denial was impossible and all he had left was stubbornness.

But that hadn't lasted long, either.

He regretted all his recent life decisions, mostly scarfing down that entire elephant ear in four bites when Tony wouldn't allow it into his car, and he resented Tony, and his spontaneous road trip and perfect skee ball game but mostly, he resented having to admit he was right.

"Tony," said Peter, lifting his head from the glass, his stubbornness spent. "I don't feel so- "

"_Do not_," said Tony, through gritted teeth, and meeting Peter's eyes in the rearview mirror. He had just one hand on the steering wheel as he drove them into the night. "Finish that sentence."

Morgan leaned over, hung out of her booster seat, and whispered, "It gives dad attacks."

"I, um, feel the opposite of good." His voice was raspy and small and begging for relief from the fire in his belly.

"Tony watch out!"

Pepper grabbed the steering wheel and jerked it to the side just as Tony slammed on the brakes. The car skidded to a stop, the front half off the road and in the grass, while the backseats were still out in the road. It was a rough stop, but Peter was thankful for it. He wrestled out of his seatbelt, opened the door, stuck his head out, and puked.

"Ewwwww, dad, Peter's getting sick," announced Morgan, as he continued to empty his stomach.

Three car doors opened and shut, and sometime between Peter's last gag and wiping his mouth off on his jacket, Tony appeared above him. He wouldn't say it out loud, but even there in the dark, Peter could see the smug, I-told-you-so expression written into every line on his face. That passed quickly, though, and it was replaced with concern, something he'd promised Peter he wouldn't feel for him.

"Are you good?"

"Yeah, yeah, I think so, for now."

Tony checked his watch, then sighed. "We're gonna stop for the night. The first hotel we see."

Peter nodded, too relieved to even try to argue. Tony had been planning on driving through the night, but they both knew they couldn't continue. Not like this. Not when he was sure to puke again.

He kept the door to the car open but leaned back against in his seat while Tony rummaged around for something up front. When he straightened out, he handed Peter a bottle of water.

"Thanks," said Peter. He took a sip, swirled it around in his mouth, and spit it out on the ground, careful to avoid looking at his puke.

"Dad look!" Morgan walked around the car and into view. She had a black cat cradled in her arms.

"You almost ran over her, that means we have to give her a home."

"What?"

"It's the rules," said Morgan.

"Says who?"

"I dunno," said Morgan, with a shrug. "Says me."

Peter watched Tony look down at Morgan, who was cooing and petting the cat, who was already in love with her, and Peter knew, probably before Tony did, that they all just met the newest member of their family and the newest passenger for their road trip.

She didn't need her own seat. She sat in Morgan's lap as Tony maneuvered the car back on the road, and FRIDAY gave directions to the nearest hotel. Peter put his head against the window, shut his eyes, and tried to focus on something that wasn't the cramps knotting in his stomach.

He drifted in and out, until the car finally slowed, and Peter lifted his head and opened his eyes to a large, plastic teddy bear standing tall, directly outside his window. The bear carried a sign, and it read: Huggy Bear Motel.

"Absolutely not," said Tony. The car was stopped, but the engine was still running. "We can't stay here. We'll all be dead by morning."

"We have one spider-boy, and one retired savior, I think we'll all be fine," said Pepper.

Peter jerked his car door open and hung his head outside. He felt it coming back again.

"Either we stay here," Pepper continued, "or force Peter to stay in the car sick for another hundred miles."

Peter threw up all over the ground, and felt the car switch off under him and heard a frustrated sigh from up front.

"Fine, we'll get a room."

Tony and Pepper disappeared inside the building, and Peter looked over at Morgan. She was fast asleep, and so was her new cat. Overhead lights flickered, bringing Peter's attention to the motel, instead. It was the kind of place without hallways. All the rooms looked like they were accessed from the outside, and all the doors leading to those rooms had faded, chipped red paint. There was a hot tub off to the side, near some trees, and Peter could tell just by looking it wasn't functional, or at least, shouldn't be functional.

"That man has one hundred percent killed someone with an ax," said Tony, when he came back, as he gently helped Peter out of the car and to his feet.

"He was just a little strange," said Pepper. She picked up the cat off Morgan's lap, and gently shook her daughter's arm, trying to wake her. "Not completely unlike yourself."

* * *

The motel room was small, with just two queen sized beds, and single hallway leading to a bathroom. It had a weird smell, that Peter tried to ignore, just like he tried to ignore the faded, off-white color of the comforter as he collapsed down on the bed closest to the bathroom. He was too exhausted, felt too sick and gross to care, but neither of those things kept him from appreciating Tony's horror as he stared down at his bed.

Peter sat up, and looked around, a realization hitting him. That there were only two beds. That Pepper, Morgan and the cat were missing.

"Where's Pepper and Morgan going to sleep?" asked Peter.

"They didn't have a suite, shocker, right?" said Tony. He lifted up the pillows and searched underneath, as though he expected something to jump out at him. "So they're in the adjoining room."

"You can go be with them. I'll be fine in here by myself."

"Right," said Tony, with a small laugh. He put the pillows back, but still frowned at the bed and refused to sit down. "Then who'd be here, keeping you company, and making sure you don't die?"

Peter opened his mouth, the answer somewhere on his tongue, but something else wanted out, instead. He felt it again, and it'd come on just as suddenly as the first two times. He jumped off the bed and darted into the bathroom, where he slammed his knees down on the floor and dunked his head into the toilet, just in time.

He finished puking, shut the toilet seat, flushed, then looked up. Tony hovered in the doorway, leaning against the frame, like always. He always hovered, always tried to help, or planed road trips just to ruin Peter's plans for freedom and independence.

Peter draped his body against the toilet for support, then blinked at Tony. "I don't need you here taking care of me."

Tony frowned, opened his mouth but shut in quickly. His face crinkled with confusion.

"I can take care of myself," said Peter, and he knew he should stop talking, even knew he didn't really mean it. He liked the company, even when he wasn't sick and miserable, but he couldn't stop the words from leaving his mouth. "If you weren't around, I could take care of myself just fine."

The room went silent, and that left plenty of room for Peter to remember that he'd almost gotten to see a world where Tony Stark wasn't around.

Tony crossed his arms, hooking his prosthetic and his flesh together, while he continued to stare at Peter, who couldn't take the words back now that they were out there, no matter how badly he wished he could. He couldn't read Tony's expression, either.

Confusion, hurt maybe, but definitely worry.

Always worry. Tony was always waiting for Peter to be taken away from him, a second time.

"So, you're still mad about not being able to stay home alone," Tony told him. "That's what this is all about? Why you've had an attitude this entire trip?"

Peter clamped his mouth shut, and continued to hug the toilet, ruminating about how he was about to get lectured in the bathroom of some crummy motel as he threw up bits of elephant ear. It could only happen to him. Parker luck.

"I could've stayed home alone," said Peter. "I'm seventeen. I'm Spider-Man. I'm not a baby."

"You mean, you could've stayed home by yourself, so you could have your party?"

"What?" asked Peter. He gripped the edges of the toilet seat tighter to keep himself sturdy as the bathroom spun. "N-no – "

"You're not the only one good at eavesdropping, Pete," said Tony. "I heard you on the phone, then I found your fake ID."

He lifted his head off the toilet seat and tried to focus on Tony as his figure blurred. "You could've just busted me."

_Like a normal parent_

He didn't say that part out loud. Something about digging his own grave didn't really appeal to him when he was pretty sure he was actually just going to die from a bad elephant ear right there on the floor, and besides that, he was too exhausted and frustrated and sick to try explaining to Tony that he'd gotten it all wrong.

Tony shrugged away from the wall and shoved his hands in his pockets. "Road trip sounded like more fun. Believe it or not, I don't actually like being the bad guy."

"Next time just ground me," said Peter, as he laid his head back down on the seat cover. It was still gross, but at least it was cool on his burning skin.

"I look forward to throwing that back in your face."

"Well I'll be eighteen before you get the chance."

Tony chuckled under his breath. "It's so adorable how you think that matters."

He walked furthered into the bathroom, and sunk down to the floor, opposite of where Peter rested against the toilet.

"I'm sorry," said Peter. He didn't know how it was possible to feel resentful and angry, and for those things to also be wrapped up in guilt. "Sometimes it just feels like, like you're suffocating me."

"Let's just put this on ice, for now, okay? We can have it out when you're not puking your guts out. It's damn near impossible for me to be angry with you when you look so pathetic."

Peter forced a small laugh, and nodded, and wished the pain mounting in his belly would stop so he could just sleep.

* * *

"Do you think someone got axed in here?" asked Peter. He was leaned against the wall, with Tony by his side, staring at a giant stain splatter.

"Maybe," answered Tony, also eying the stain.

It was hours later, and Peter had thrown up twice more. That last time he mostly just gagged on his own stomach acid, while Tony rubbed his back. He was seventeen. He didn't need Tony to take care of him like that, but he wasn't exactly going to tell him to stop, either. He craved the comfort still, and he wondered if that would ever go away, if his biggest, most obvious lie would be telling Tony he didn't need him anymore.

His stomach was starting to feel at peace, like all the poison had left him, but his throat felt tight, felt so tight, he had trouble getting a good breath. Peter inhaled deeply, trying to get a good, deep breath in, but it didn't matter. It was useless. His lungs still weren't satisfied.

"Tony, I can't breathe," said Peter. He rubbed at his throat, as if that might help.

"Yeah, yeah I get it, I'm helicoptering – "He started to scoot away from him, to finally give him space, right when he didn't really want it.

"-No literally, I can't breathe."

"Okay," said Tony. His voice was calm as he repositioned himself, back closer to Peter, and put a comforting hand on his back, rubbing circles. "Just relax. Deep breath in, deep breath out, match me."

"I _can't_."

"Yes you can, we've done this a million times, it's just a panic attack." Tony kept rubbing his circles, slow and steady, and that should've helped, should've grounded him and brought him back to reality, but it didn't.

Peter shook his head. He knew what a panic attack felt like, and this wasn't it. He knew what it was like for the room to spin with anxiety, but he also knew what it was like for the planet to spin as death came crept near.

Before he could tell Tony, Pepper appeared outside the bathroom door. "Tony we can't stay here."

"Oh now you listen to me – "

"-Morgan's cat found some… bugs," said Pepper. "In the beds."

"_What?" _

Tony's eyes snapped back to Peter, and without warning, he grabbed him by his shirt collar and hoisted him to his feet. He dragged him out of the bathroom, through the motel room, then finally, out the door and into the night.

Cool air hit Peter's skin, and without the odd smell of motel room, the air felt lighter and reached his lungs in a way it hadn't when he was inside. He breathed deep and exhaled, as Tony lowered him down so he could sit on the sidewalk and up against the wall.

"Better?"

"Y-yeah."

"Okay, just, just work on your breathing," said Tony. He stayed standing and ran a hand through his hair, his head partially blocking out the moon behind him.

Peter sat on the concrete, and for once, did what Tony told him and worked on his breathing, that became labored for a second time as a bright light flashed in his face. He gasped, shut his eyes, and when he opened them again, Tony stood between him and the light source.

"What the fuck?" yelled Tony.

"Sorry to scare your kid there," said a man, who caught the malice in Tony's voice, and directed his flashlight to the ground. "Just going around, making sure everyone's alright."

"Why wouldn't everything be alright?" questioned Tony.

"We've been having bug problems," said the man. "Just bug bombed the place earlier on in the day."

"We're checking out now, right now."

The man, who Peter guessed must've been the caretaker, frowned at them, said nothing, and left, whistling as he turned a corner and disappeared.

"To answer your question," said Tony. "Yup, someone was axed in there without a doubt."

Just ten minutes later, Peter sat on a curb, out in the parking lot, and watched as Tony and Pepper covered all their bags in plastic and loaded them into the car. Morgan and her cat were already inside, passed out in the backseat, but Peter wasn't ready to be locked up in a moving vehicle yet. Though he'd stopped throwing up, he was still nauseous and exhausted and dreaded having to drive a couple hours longer to get to a hotel.

Tony seemed to sense the dread, though. He threw the key fab to Pepper, who caught it easily and slid into the car behind the wheel. Tony helped Peter to his feet by gently tugging on his arm.

"Come on," he told him. "I'll sit in the back with you and Morgan, and you can use me as a pillow."

Peter only offered him a shaky nod, then climbed into the car after him. The cat decided the backseat was too cramped and jumped off to the passenger's seat to keep Pepper company, but it was just the right amount cramped for Peter. He huddled into Tony's side, put his head on his chest, and, as Pepper drove them into the night and to a nice, normal hotel, fell asleep in his arms.

* * *

The wind blew through the treetops, and ruffled through Peter's freshly showered hair, as he sat on a wooden balcony and let his legs dangle off the ledge.

He was up early, considering the night they had, but their drive from the bug infested motel to their safe haven at the nearest Holiday Inn hadn't been as bad as Peter had expected. He'd gotten sleep. Good sleep, and the few seconds he'd been jostled awake by the car hitting a bump, he'd at least been comforted by Tony's hand running through his hair, or by the rock music playing softly through the speakers.

The door to the balcony slid open with a squeak, and Tony stepped out, holding a soda fresh from the fountain of whatever gas station he found. He sat next to Peter and handed him the Sprite he'd requested.

"Thanks." He poked the straw through the plastic lid, and took a small sip, before setting it down, off to the side.

"Anytime, kid," said Tony, as he sat down next to him, and let his legs dangle next to Peter's.

For a while, it was nice. It was just Peter, and Tony, and the sound the trees made when the wind blew through the leaves and branches. They didn't need to fill the air with noisy words, or apologies, though Peter knew that would be coming for both of them sooner or later. It was quiet, and that was okay. Company was enough.

Tony's company was more than enough. It was comforting, an anchor, and Peter didn't want to ever imagine what his life might be like without it, what his life had almost been.

"So," said Tony, bumping his shoulder with a nudge. "Are we ever gonna talk about you being allergic to bug spray?"

Peter laughed, shrugged, and looked out on the trees.

"I swear, the longer I know you, the more I'm convinced you're more spider than human."

"Tony listen," said Peter. "I'm sorry about what I – "

"-Forget it, Pete. We all say things we don't mean when we're angry."

It was said with ease and confidence, and as if Tony had never really taken it to heart. He wondered if it was an act. If Tony made his voice sound that way so Peter wouldn't have to walk around feeling guilty, like he was known to do.

"I do need you. I just – need you to let me ask for help sometimes, instead of rushing in."

Tony nodded, to make it clear he heard him, that he was considering, and then he hit him with, "We need to talk about the party."

"I know," said Peter. "I know it was stupid, and I should've talked to May before inviting Ned and MJ to come over – "

"No wait," Tony cut him off. "Just Ned and MJ?"

"Yeah."

"You said on the phone that it was, I quote 'going to be wild.'"

"It was," said Peter. "We were going to watch all the Star Wars movies."

Tony blinked at him.

"In zigzag order, when everyone knows the best way to watch them is in release order."

Tony narrowed his eyes, and looked more confused than Peter had ever seen him look before. "Do I even want to know what the fake ID was for?"

"I don't want to say."

"Kid- "

"-They were playing this Black Dahlia documentary at the movies. And it was rated R, right? So they wouldn't let us buy tickets, which is ridiculous by way, but anyway, we couldn't have May come with us on a date, you know? May's getting pretty nosey as it is, and that's really uncalled for, I don't go around spying on her and Happy-"

"Alright, alright, I think I get it," said Tony. He looked at him, then laughed. It was at his expense, just like at the carnival, but it was booming, and infectious, and brought a grin to Peter's face. "You're Spider-Man, and you can't sneak a girl into the movies?"

"Spider-Man is sneaky," said Peter. He looked down at his sock covered feet, still smiling. "Peter Parker trips over his untied shoelaces."

Tony fist bumped Peter's shoulder, and his laughing died down. "I suppose I owe you an apology. I, uh, let my anxiety run away with me, and jumped to conclusions. The truth is, I… I worry about you becoming past me, but you're so much better, already, than I ever was. You're a good person, Peter. A responsible one."

"Thanks to you."

"Thanks to _May_," corrected Tony. "In spite of me."

"Thanks to Ben, and May, _and you_," said Peter. He gave one last look at Tony's prosthetic arm, a permanent reminder of what Tony was willing to do to keep his family and his home safe. "You taught what it means to be a hero, what it takes."

Tony smiled, and gave his shoulder a pat, before standing up, and walking towards the door. "We'll head back home tomorrow, once you're feeling better, I think I tortured you with this road trip long enough."

"Wait, Tony," said Peter, stopping him when his hand was on the door handle. "Where were we going, anyway?"

"Galaxy's Edge." The answer came off Tony's lips causally, like it was no big deal, like it wasn't the single greatest place on earth that Peter had yet to visit.

"_What? Star Wars land?"_ asked Peter. He stood up, to match Tony. "You couldn't have, I don't know, mentioned that in the first place?"

Tony shrugged. "Honestly, I wanted you to suffer."

"Can we still go?"

"If you want to," said Tony. Peter nodded his head up and down. "Okay. We'll get back on the road tomorrow."

"Sweet. I'm gonna go watch the movies, to get in the spirit," said Peter, as he stepped past Tony, and into their suite. It wasn't the luxury that Tony was used to, but it was homey and wasn't advertised by a creepy plastic bear holding a sign.

Also, it didn't have bugs, or poisonous fumes from bug bombs floating around in the air.

"Sounds like a family movie day." Tony followed him in. "Just stick to the originals. The ones without the Kylo the dad killer. He's Morgan's favorite, and I'm not sure what that says about my future."

Peter stopped, and turned, and laughed. "Morgan's favorite is _Rey_. I just told her to tell you Kylo to freak you out."

"You're grounded," said Tony, and wiped the grin right off Peter's face. "See? Told you I'd get a chance to throw it back in your face."

Tony patted his head, and walked past him, plopping himself down on the couch in the living area and snatching the remote off the coffee table. Peter paused and watched Tony flip through the pay-to-watch movies on the hotel catalogue.

They ended up breezing through four Star Wars movies that day. All five of them, including the cat, smashed together on the tiny, hotel room couch. It was a pretty good day to be an abducted member of the Starks, and it was a pretty good week for a road trip, after all.


End file.
